Quarterback Colin Kaepernick Isn’t the One Trampling Our Constitution. But You Might Be.

Photo of Colin Kaepernick By Au Kirk; cropped by Moe Epsilon [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

Such righteous indignation I’m seeing the past two days because a 49ers quarterback decided to sit out the national anthem.

I’ll start by saying how much I enjoy the sarcastic cries of Oh, he’s so oppressed! followed by memes like this and this.

Please read his official statement on why he sat down during the national anthem:

“I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color,” Kaepernick said, according to NFL.com. “To me, this is bigger than football and it would be selfish on my part to look the other way. There are bodies in the street and people getting paid leave and getting away with murder.”

At no point does he state that he is oppressed.

He’s taking a stand, with his voice that has been given a national stage, for those he feels have voices that aren’t being heard.

Sort of like if I were to advocate for sex trafficking victims. I’ve never been one. That doesn’t mean I can’t, or have no place, lending my voice to their plight.

Now, on to those who feel he is “un-American,” disrespectful of our troops, and that he should leave the country.

(I’m looking at you, Facebook troll.)

What he did is one of the most American things a person in this country can do. No matter what I, or anyone else, thinks of his stance or the actual act of refusing to stand during the national anthem, protesting . . . taking a stand . . . fighting for your beliefs . . . are all as American as apple pie.

Don’t you dare shame that man by saying he is disgracing our nation or our troops.

His right to protest is protected by the Constitution.

It’s the very reason our troops defend our nation.

In many parts of the world, he would be in danger for taking a stand like that.

In addition, his protest was silent and peaceful. If you get mad when protestors damage things, and get mad when they disrupt businesses (even if all they do is march, if businesses are unable to open or people don’t go into them because of protests they are disrupted), in what ways do you think someone can stand up and have their voice heard when he/she feels passionately for a cause without leaving you in vast amounts of butthurt from your perch at your keyboard?

I never heard of this guy before. Now I know, because of an act of silent, peaceful protest, that this means something to him. What better way for someone who has a moment on the national stage to get his point across? If he had put his hands up in the faces of officers there to keep the crowd safe, such as NBA players did, he’d be publicly shamed as they were.

At what point do we admit that by arguing over peaceful forms of protest we are silencing people and disrespecting our very own Constitution?

If that’s your objective, admit it.

I don’t have to agree with his cause. I don’t have to agree with his form of protest (even if it harms nobody). I’m thankful to live under the protection of our Constitution so that people CAN sit if they want without fear of government retribution.

Stop whining about a first world problem and let’s instead have a productive national conversation over something that matters.

Because this conversation?

It’s just a distraction from the real issues.

An Open Apology: Sorry My Vagina is Being Such a Cunt

It is my vagina, right?

Because I used to think it was my tits. They are so much more “in your face,” after all.

Technically though, you have tits, too. Yours are just smaller and less useful due to a different cocktail of hormones.

I’ve ruled out my uterus, ovaries, and other reproductive organs because “out of sight, out of mind.” I guess it could be my clit, but I’m going to assume that while you may have a general idea of its location, you will probably still not be capable of putting your finger on it.

Even with a map. And GPS.

So, my vagina it must be.

Sorry.

Sorry my vagina keeps you from being all business-like. It must suck to be incapable of speaking to me, a fellow human being, in a respectful manner. Like the way you speak to other men.

I’m sorry my vagina doesn’t look like the penises you want surrounding you all the time. It must be annoying to have to constantly ask to speak with my husband. Imagine if my vagina was one of those uppity vaginas who didn’t have a husband? I bet that’s tough for you when that happens.

Sorry you can’t work on my car, or change my tire, or sell me stuff, or build me a house because of my pesky vagina. I mean, there are so darn many of us humans with vaginas around! I can see how that must eat into your potential income. Sorry.

Sorry my vagina forces you to explain to me the ways of the world in simplified terms. That must be exhausting. It tires me out just listening to it, so I can imagine how it must make you feel. Especially when a vagina points out things like “credentials” and “expertise” and “years of experience” and “advanced degrees” and other things that make a vagina feel as if the body its attached to is knowledgeable and qualified to speak on a topic. Then you have to re-explain it and dumb things down further.

Because vagina.

Sorry my vagina is just, like, this gaping hole that needs to be filled. It must be that you’ve never outgrown that urge you had as a kid to stick something in the electrical socket and here I am walking around with a hole that you just want to put things into. Sorry your mom assumed you’d listen when she told you “no.”

In her defense, vagina.

I can see how it must anger you to walk through life with all these gaping vaginas around you and people expecting you to not stick stuff in them whenever and wherever you want. Sometimes when you do that, you end up arrested. Not all the time, but sometimes. And that must really throw you for a loop. Because hey, it’s just like any other hole. Right?

It seems like vaginas everywhere lately are being so cunty. (Is that a word? You tell me, because I have a vagina and we all know how that clouds my judgment.) It’s like they just keep insisting on being paid the same and treated the same as penises. They think they have “ideas” and that they have “rights.” It seems too like there are lots of penises getting on board. Penises who think the same and work to respect the vaginas. WTF, amiright?

Sorry that whole scene knocks you off your high horse. I can see why that is so scary for you. I mean, who would want to have to suddenly embrace new norms AND admit to not being the end all, be all authority on all things AND stop sticking whatever they want into any gaping vagina that walks by whenever?!

Sorry.

I have to admit something, though. Despite all this apologizing I’ve done, I kind of like the idea of being seen as more than just a vagina.

Even if you prefer to keep being a dick.

I Don’t Want to Use the Same Bathroom as You

Guess what.

I don’t want to use the bathroom with anybody.

And that could just be because I’m a mom and 100% not exaggerating when I tell you I don’t recall the last time I had a piss in peace. My cat lays on my feet. My dog stares at me in a super creepy way. (Seriously, if you’re worried about perverts I’d like to report her.)

My kids? The older ones fucking talk to me right through the door. The youngest . . . just all up in my grill. Practically sits on my lap. Even gets my feminine products for me when it’s my “Mommy that’s gross!” time of the month.

Honestly, I don’t give a shining fuck what’s in your pants. I don’t want to go to the bathroom with you.

But sometimes, it happens. It’s natural. It’s unavoidable. I often find myself away from my preferred toilet (the one in my home) and have to use a public restroom. And hey, as shy as I am about public restrooms, let’s all stop a minute to give thanks they exist! I’m stoked I have never had to shit in the street. Like my super creepy dog who also, come to think of it, stares at me while she’s shitting.

Yet here I am, writing about going to the bathroom with you. Why is that?

I don’t normally rant on here. I certainly don’t discuss politics. That’s what everyone on Facebook does. And seriously, fuck Facebook.

I appreciate that it allows me to keep in touch with faraway friends and family in a convenient, visual manner. But in all honesty, lately it just makes me ill and inspires rants like the one I’m gearing up to drop right here like a deuce.

Everyone is basically an asshole. I won’t even explain that any further. If you’ve been on Facebook, you get it.

To be honest, I’m hopeful enough to believe that all of us are open enough and accepting to just get that this is really a non-issue. That we shouldn’t even have to discuss this.

But just in case . . .

1. There are SO MANY more important things in this world to get up in arms about.

Why have you chosen to hyper focus on what is in someone’s underwear prior to that human being choosing a restroom to use?

Armchair activists raise my blood pressure like very few other things do. Because this is what I want to shout at each and every one of them:

Hey asshole! You hate how the world works? Instead of sharing that misguided, hateful, ignorant meme that lacks grammar (seriously it contains ZERO grammar) get up, get the fuck out of your house, and GO MAKE A DIFFERENCE IN YOUR COMMUNITY.

Then, feel free to come at me, bro.

2. Guess what used to happen in the bathroom before all this bullshit started?

You went in.

You went to the bathroom.

AND YOU HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS IN THE PANTS OF THE PERSON IN THE NEXT STALL.

Seriously. You had no idea.

Guess what?

I’m gonna let you in on a secret.

Shhhhhh.

You’ve already peed next to transgender people.

AND YOU LIVED.

3. I have a question.

HOW THE FUCK DO PEOPLE CONDUCT THEMSELVES IN THE BATHROOM?

Here’s how I roll.

I go in.

I piss.

I wash my hands.

I leave.

I keep my head down.

I make eye contact with NOBODY.

The New York Fucking Knicks could be pissing in that bathroom with me, I’d have no idea. Want to know why?

BECAUSE IT’S ALREADY INSANE TO ME THAT I HAVE TO PEE WITH STRANGERS.

I don’t want to acknowledge it in any way. I just want to be back home with my pervert dog staring at me.

There are several moments in every day when I want utter peace and quiet and privacy and tranquility. No, not when I’m meditating.

WHEN I’M IN THE BATHROOM.

Do you seriously spend so much time in public restrooms that you feel you have the time, and even the inclination, to check everyone’s genitalia?????

Then, guess what.

You need to reevaluate your entire life.

While you’re at it . . . see # 1 above and follow those instructions.